


Ineffable

by Caro_the_Poet



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_the_Poet/pseuds/Caro_the_Poet
Summary: Aziraphale is cautious. Neither hellfire nor holy water are a pleasant way to perish, and he knows full well that would be the end for both of them if either Heaven or Hell found out. He wants things to stay the same, even as he is newly aware of the way Crowley’s golden eyes follow him—aware that Crowley feels the same way he does, and always has.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Ineffable

The first time they kiss, it is Aziraphale who initiates it.

Not because Crowley hasn’t longed to many times before—hell, Crowley has loved Aziraphale for fully 6000 years, ever since Aziraphale admitted to giving the humans his flaming sword; and then, as the first rain fell from the darkening sky, instinctively shielded the demon from the hissing drops with his gleaming white wing. Aziraphale—kind, open-hearted, overflowing with love and neuroses, protecting his sworn enemy minutes after their first meeting without even a second thought.

Crowley, who had certainly never worshiped the Almighty and considered all of Her motives suspect, Sauntered Vaguely Downward from heaven and found himself worshiping an angel. If _that_ was part of the Almighty’s Ineffable Plan, Crowley had to at least give Her credit for having a sense of humor.

But for Aziraphale, falling in love was a much more gradual and complicated thing. At first, it was mere fondness. Crowley was irreverent and amusing, almost enough to quiet the niggling, ever-present fear that Head Office Would Find Out, and There Would Be Hell (or Heaven) To Pay. Fondness, over a few millennia, progressed to a kind of loving dependence, an easy friendship, favors given and received. _We’ll flip a coin for Edinburgh. Head Office doesn’t care, so long as the paperwork gets done_. Aziraphale would protest, Crowley would cajole, Aziraphale would refuse, Crowley would suggest lunch.

Aziraphale would always agree in the end.

A predictable pattern, a routine of events, an Arrangement. Aziraphale thrives on predictability. Perhaps that was why Crowley both exasperated and fascinated him.

Aziraphale’s Moment of Knowing comes 5941 years after their first meeting. The bombing of a church in London. A narrow escape from discorporation and a mountain of paperwork. A bag of priceless books, preserved at the last moment.

_A little demonic miracle of my own_ , Crowley says carelessly, handing the bag to Aziraphale. And Aziraphale _knows_.

His heart nearly pounds out of his chest as he watches the fallen angel saunter toward his car. _He saved my books, and I love him. I love him, I love him_. An unending refrain, following the beat of his heart.

But Aziraphale is cautious. Neither hellfire nor holy water are a pleasant way to perish, and he knows full well that would be the end for both of them if either Heaven or Hell found out. He wants things to stay the same, even as he is newly aware of the way Crowley’s golden eyes follow him—aware that Crowley feels the same way he does, and always has.

His caution keeps feelings suppressed through the next fifty or so years. _You go too fast for me, Crowley_. And so Crowley waits, as he has always waited. Always lurking on the periphery, always protecting his angel, as his angel protected him on the first day. Some days he can barely breathe with the longing, but still he waits. Through the delivery and raising of the Antichrist, through the Apocalypse-that-didn’t-happen, through the fallout with Heaven and Hell, Crowley sets his teeth. He will wait for an eternity, if it means that Aziraphale will love him at the end of it.

And so, after everything, it is Aziraphale who kisses Crowley. Out of the blue, on a bench in the park, surrounded by all the beautiful, familiar things that make Earth the home they were willing to fight both Heaven and Hell to keep. Because if Aziraphale learned anything through that, it was that there is a time and a place to throw caution to the wind. 

He did it then.

He’s doing it again now.

No words. Only Aziraphale’s hammering heart and Crowley’s shining yellow eyes that are _suspiciously_ shiny at this moment, almost as if they had tears in them (but of course they don’t, because that would be ridiculous). Aziraphale’s palm against Crowley’s cheek; Crowley’s smile against Aziraphale’s lips.

The Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden, kissing in plain view on a London park bench.

The Almighty laughs.

Ineffable, indeed.


End file.
